A Fractured Psyche
by anonymus31
Summary: Collection of story starters and one shots that may or may not be expanded and posted as their own stories. currently rated T, but that could change later on.
1. The Dark Wizard Defiance Dilemma

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own The Middleman either.

A/N: Welcome to My Fractured Psyche. I don't get many ideas that I write out, and most of the others are barebones premises. This is where I'll try out the premises. I'll start with one I've been kicking around for a while--an entire day, believe it or not! All joking aside, I'll end with the standard statement for 'container' type stories: The ideas here-in may or may not be turned into full on multi-chapter fics.

If anyone reading this has actually read the comics, I'm basing this off of the TV show.

**The Dark Wizard Defiance Dilemma**

Middleman HQ

Tee time

"Why are we going to England? I thought our jurisdiction was just this city!" the young Hispanic woman said.

"Actually, a Middleman is beyond jurisdiction, Dubbie," her boss said. Despite a uniform that closely resembled that of a mailman, he looked like he had walked straight out of a spaghetti western. "Technically, we do not have any jurisdiction. May I remind you that we, as Middlemen, are really more like independent contractors specializing in the solving of exotic problems."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Dubbie--Wendy Watson to everyone but her boss, her roommate, and her boyfriend--said. "And there's really no need to remind me. I still have the painting of the hentai tentacle monster hanging in my living room."

"Your living room, eh?" a sarcastic voice said from behind Wendy as Ida, the Middleman's receptionist and tech expert, walked into the room. "Sure it's not on the ceiling over your bed?"

Wendy tried her hardest to ignore the ill-tempered android--who looked very much like a schoolmarm, down to the ugly horn-rimmed glasses and bad hairdo. "You never did answer me," she prompted as she turned back to her boss. "What's going on in England that needs solving?"

"O2STK wants us to investigate reports of increasing Dark Wizard activity. They appear to mirror events that occurred in between 1969 and 1981, when reportedly a Mr..." he looked down at the dossier in front of him, "Voldemort attempted to overthrow the Wizard government in England. His profile states that he extended his campaign of violence to _nichtmagi_--people like you and me, who can't do magic, or muggles as they're called in Britain--and the children of normal, non-magical people who could do magic. He was stopped by unknown means on Halloween 1981, but no body was ever recovered so it has always been assumed that he managed to escape but was mortally wounded and died elsewhere. So, either we're dealing with a copycat, or he survived that night and has finally recovered enough to begin his campaign of terror again."

"So we're dealing with an anarchist with the ability to kill with just a thought?" Wendy said, unfazed.

"Not quite. According to his profile, he didn't want to bring the government down, he just wanted to take over and rid the magical world of those descended from non-magical parents. He apparently found many of their more socially progressive ideas disturbing and felt that they were ruining the culture of wizarding world."

"Ah, we're dealing with _someone like Rush Limbaugh _who can kill with just a thought, then," Wendy said.

"How do reach that conclusion?"

"He finds their views to be a bit too liberal for his tastes, and in response he wants to return his society back to a more conservative time," Wendy said.

"That...makes sense, I guess," her boss said.

"So how are we getting to foggy old England? The Middlejet only seats one and I'm _not_ getting in the cancersub ever again!"

"Of course we won't be taking the cancersu--darn it, Dubbie, you've got me saying it too," The Middleman said. Wendy suppressed a sigh as yet again her boss--who claimed to be a former U.S. Navy SEAL--uttered yet another of his repertoire of 1950s sitcom swears. "As a was saying, of course we won't be taking the Middlesub. We'll be taking the Middlemobile--"

"Don't tell me! We're going to drive across the ocean floor! Or better yet, it'll glide across the surface of the ocean like a hovercraft!" Wendy interrupted tiredly.

"Actually, Dubbie, I was going to say that we'll be taking the Middlemobile to the airport tomorrow morning and board the six o'clock flight to London using the tickets O2STK sent with the orders and the profile of Mr. Voldemort."

"Voldemort..." muttered Wendy. Something about that name...

"Aha!" Wendy shouted. "I got it!"

"Got what?" Ida asked from behind her. "Did you suddenly remember where you left your hookah?"

Wendy ignored her...it? _How does one refer to an android, anyway?_

"The name of the guy. It's not just a nonsense name. Voldemort means 'flee from death,'" Wendy said.

"Are you sure?"

"I could be wrong about the conjugation, but I've seen enough Italian zombie movies to know the words for flee and death."

"Go home and get some sleep, Dubbie. We've got an early start tomorrow," The Middleman said, dismissing her.

--

The hallway outside the illegal sublet Wendy shares with another young, photogenic artist.

Party time--where the are you?

"Yo, Wendy Watson," the dark-complexioned man said as Wendy opened the elevator door onto the floor where she shared an apartment with her best friend from art school, Lacey Thornfield.

"Hey, Noser," she replied tiredly.

"You know, the bitch is hungry, she needs to kill," Noser said.

"So give her inches, and feed her well," Wendy replied after a split second of thought.

"You're the only girl that gets me, Wendy Watson," he said as she opened the door to her apartment.

"Hey Dub-dub," Wendy's photogenic blonde roommate/best friend, Lacey, said as Wendy entered, "what's up?"

"I have to go to England tomorrow. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone, but I'll make sure to send my rent money if I'm gone too long."

"Why are you going to England? Couldn't whoever it is have gotten a temp from a local agency?" Lacey asked. The Middleman organization operated under the cover of the Jolly Fats Weehawkin Temp Agency.

"No, not one with the specialized skills that my boss and I have," Wendy said.

"So that means Pillowlips is going with you?" Lacey asked, almost swooning as she recited her nickname for Wendy's boss.

"Would you stop calling him that?" Wendy said resignedly, knowing that the answer was a no.

"You won't let me call him Sexy Boss Man anymore, and neither of you will tell me his real name. What am I supposed to call him?"

Wendy hated to admit it, but her logic was good, if a bit disturbing. She was about to admit defeat when a thought occurred to her.

"How about you use his initials, M.M.," she suggested.

"What do they stand for?" Lacey asked.

"I dunno," Wendy lied. "I overheard Ida, the receptionist, call him that once."

"Okay, I'll try," Lacey said earnestly.

"Good. Listen, I've got an early flight tomorrow, so I need to go to bed now. Could you try keep the noise to a minimum?" pleaded Wendy.

"Sure thing Dub-dub."

--

The hallway outside the illegal sublet Wendy shares with another young, photogenic artist.

Hammer Time

It was well before dawn when The Middleman opened the doors to the elevator onto the floor where Wendy lived.

"Yo, Wendy's boss!" exclaimed Noser tiredly.

"Good morning, Mr. Noser," replied The Middleman amiably as he went to Wendy's door and knocked.

Almost immediately the door opened. "Hello, Sexy bo--I mean Pillowli--I mean M. M. Wendy'll be down in a minute. In the mean time, can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?" Her voice turned husky, "Or perhaps I could interest you in a little--"

"Please, Lacey, could you try and tone it down in front of me?" Wendy said.

"I didn't see you come down, Dub-dub. I was just trying to wish M. M. _bon voyage_," Lacey said, looking vaguely like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Unfortunately there isn't time for you and my boss to do the tubesnake boogie," Wendy said lightly. "I'll see you when we get back. Maybe then I'll give you some alone time."

Lacey and Wendy shared a friendly embrace. "Bye, Dub-dub, M. M.," she said as the separated.

Wendy followed her boss into the hall. "Yo, Wendy Watson!" Noser exclaimed tiredly.

"Hey, Noser," Wendy said. "You're up early, aren't you?"

"I haven't been to bed yet. Been too busy thinking about flying."

"You mean like an eagle?" Wendy asked.

"No."

"Do you believe you can fly?"

"No."

"You're gonna fly to the angels."

"No."

"I got it. You're gonna fly by night.

"You're the only girl that gets me Wendy Watson," Noser said as he got up to return to his apartment. "See you when you get back."

--

Somewhere in Little Whinging, Surrey.

Big Time

The dark haired youth looked to be about thirteen or fourteen, wiry muscles hardened from years of using them working in the garden. In fact, he was about a week shy of sixteen. He was currently trimming the hedge. He had to be very careful, because if he got any part of it too tall or too short, his uncle was going to beat him. His exact words had been, "If you ruin our hedgerow, boy, I'm going to kick your ungrateful arse up between your eyeballs!"

Harry Potter was used to such threats. Despite the fact that Uncle Vernon had never done worse than using his belt on Harry, Harry never doubted for a minute that Vernon would do far worse given the proper incitement. He'd recently purchased a two-foot length of two by four, which he said was to be used to "discipline any members of this household who exhibit a proclivity for disobedience." He'd also purchased a thesaurus, which he'd flipped through for a week before explaining the two by four.

Harry was disturbed from his reverie by a voice nearby. It was male, American, and possessed with the patience that only teachers explaining concepts to pupils could muster. "According to the HADAR, there is a strong magical signature in this area, one of a type not exhibited by any other site in the world, much less the United Kingdoms," it said.

A bored sounding female voice replied, "But what makes you think this is where we'll find," there was a pause, as if she was trying to remember a name, "Voldemort."

Harry's head snapped around in the direction of the voices so fast he pinched a nerve in his neck. "Ow! Shite!" he exclaimed calmly, followed by a muttered string of swear words delivered in an equally calm manner.

There were only two people Harry could see on the street. He didn't recognize either of them, but they were obviously source of the voices. As they approached--drawn by his invectives, no doubt--he thought it odd that they looked more muggle than any adult witch or wizard he'd ever met. "Young man, perhaps you could go get your father so we could talk," the man said reasonably.

"I would if he were alive, but he died Halloween of 1981," Harry replied. _Why did I tell them that?_

The two Americans shared a glance, and the next thing Harry knew he was on the ground, his hands held behind his back. "So, taking up the family business, are you? Figured you could get your father's old followers together and terrorize the populace, did you?"

"What the _bloody fucking hell _are you talking about?!" Harry exclaimed around a mouthful of garden.

"He's talking about the fact that you've been terrorizing Britain under the pseudonym of 'Voldemort,' you little punk," the woman said from somewhere in front of him. He couldn't see her. In fact, all he could see was the anthill his left eye was currently less than an inch away from.

"You're fucking mental!" Harry exclaimed. "Voldemort was the bastard that killed my parents."

"So he killed your parents on the same day he disappeared?" the man asked, releasing Harry. The woman kept a wary eye on him.

"How do you know of Voldemort and not know who I am?" Harry asked, wary of these two.

"All we know is what O2STK tells us," the man replied. He was apparently in charge here.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "O2STK?"

The man began to answer, but Harry cut him off. "Never mind. Still, I'm surprised you've never heard the name Harry Potter."

"Oh my god! You're _the_ Harry Potter?!" The woman suddenly gushed. "I expected you to be taller, but I see it now," she added.

"So you _have_ heard of me," Harry groaned.

"Actually...no," she said. "Should I have?" she asked dryly.

"You know about Voldemort, but you don't know anything about 'The Boy-Who-Lived?'" Harry asked incredulously, making finger quotes as he recited the accursed title. "What rock have you been living under? There's not a witch or wizard who doesn't know my name!" He began to think that his wish for anonymity had finally been granted...at the worst possible moment.

"Actually, young man, we are what most of your kind call _nichtmagi_--but you would be more familiar with the term muggle," the man said.

_I'll call the man 'Dirk Squarejaw' and the woman...Isabella, since she looks Mexican._ Then what the man said sunk in. "What?!" Harry sputtered eloquently.

"The organization we work for, O2STK, told us all they knew about Mr. Voldemort, which wasn't much, and obviously was far from enough," the man conceded. "I apologize, Mister...Potter, was it?"

Harry nodded. "Just Harry, if you don't mind. So, who are you anyway?"

The man observed Harry with a suspicious look for a minute. Then, apparently satisfied with what he saw--or at least Harry assumed that's what the new expression meant, but since he'd never seen anyone happy about how he looked, so he didn't know for sure--said, "I am The Middleman. This is my partner and apprentice, The Middlegirl."

He paused for a second, a look of deep thought crossing his features. "Perhaps now that we've gotten the introductions out of the way, perhaps you can fill us in on the story of Voldemort?"

"I'd be glad to, but my Uncle would kill me if he heard me speaking of my 'freakishness' to anyone," Harry replied.

"Don't worry, I'll work on convincing him. He'll see my point eventually."

And he did.

--

A/N: The next chapter, if it gut's written, will take place after the conversation. I honestly don't know where the story will go if I continue it. I started it on a lark, but I worked hard on it.

Questions? Comments? Plotholes (I don't expect there to be any, but you never know.)? Just type them up in a review and I'll get to them when I can.


	2. Goodbye Cruel World

Disclaimer: Whatever will be, will be. But unfortunately, me owning the source material for this work of fanfiction _will NEVER be_. Breath Lyrics belong to Morgan and Mercedes Lander.

A/N: This is a oneshot AU of and AU, based off my fic 'Innocence Faded.' Please read that first, otherwise much of this will not make any sense. It was, in a way, a challenge issued to me by pstibbons. What if Ron hadn't gotten suspicious when Harry left Hermione? What if Ginny had never used a love potion to warm Hermione up to Ron? What if your reading this now and haven't read Innocence Faded? To answer the last question: you'll be very lost. For answers to the first two, read on.

The lyrics for Breathe are used to keep the story in line with the style of Innocence Faded.

As for my German, I know an impressive range of curse words, but I'm not entirely sure of the spelling. Some of them, such as _hunden_, I'm not sure if they work in the situations I use them. If anyone has corrections for my Deutch, I'd appreciate them--particulary spelling correcions.

**Goodbye Cruel World**

_You. You aren't really here with me__  
You never were__  
Sweep the dust from our eyes once again__  
Watch the sunset of our hearts one last time  
At sunrise I'll be gone_

_--Kittie, "Breathe"_

7 September 2011

Michelle von Harkonen knocked on the front door of her friend's house. Hermione Granger had not been in to work for the third straight day, and she had not contacted anyone about why she was missing work. Likewise attempts to contact her had proven useless.

"Hallo? Are you in there, Hermione?" she called in a thick German accent. Many people were caught off guard by the fact that she spoke in near perfect English despite her strong accent.

She waited for five minutes then knocked again. When she still got no answer, she looked around for the false rock Hermione had shown her in in case she ever needed to get in in an emergency.

"Why didn't she just get her house connected to the Floo Network like everyone else?" Michelle muttered under her breath in a mix of French and German that only one who had grown up on the border of France and Germany would understand.

In truth Hermione did have her house connected to the Floo Network, but only during the summer. While her children were at Hogwarts she shut it off to save money and for security reasons.

Finally Michelle found the rock she was looking for and removed the key. Quickly she inserted the key into the lock and unlocked the door.

"_Was dies ist?"_ The first thing she saw upon entering the modest house on the outskirts of Manchester was an envelope sitting on the foyer table. For an instant Michelle had the disorienting sensation that it said both "To whoever finds this first" and "To Michelle," before she realized it was an enchantment of some sort. She picked up the envelope and slit it open.

As she reached into the envelope to pull the note out, Michelle could have sworn she heard the sound of a rope creaking. She pushed it from her mind and began to read.

_To all my friends and family,_

_I'm so sorry. I really wish I could be there with you. But it hurts too much to go on whenever I think of what I've lost. _

_Mum, Dad, I really am sorry that you have to bury your only child. You deserved better, but what you got was me, and for that I can never apologize enough._

_Harry, I wish our time together could have been longer, but I guess it was not meant to be. I know you are happier with Ginny than you ever were with me._

_Ron, I know you've always loved me, but I just never loved you back in that way...maybe we_ should_ have given it a shot, but my heart was never in it, nor would it ever have been in it._

_Jonas, Jenna, your are my pride and joy. You made my life worth living after your father left me. My only regret was that I wasn't a better mother to you. You'll be better off without me. You may not believe me now, but you'll see._

_To all my friends and family that I have not mentioned here, mourn not for me (not that you would anyway) but remember, I have gone to a better place. I'll see you all in the end._

_I told myself I wouldn't write this, but I find I must. Goodbye cruel world. God that sounds so melodramatic--yet another reason to be glad that you're finally rid of me._

_Love,_

_Hermione Jean Granger._

Suddenly Michelle remembered the sound of rope creaking. She rushed upstairs to where she heard the sound from, and found her, hanging from the vaulted ceiling in her children's bedroom. "_Scheisse_," she muttered. Obviously she had stood on a bed to get her head into the noose, and vanished the bed once she was ready. Michelle ran from the house to the nearest Apparition point and returned to the Ministry of Magic, heading straight to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Only as the lift opened on the floor tht the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was on did she realize that she still had the note clutched in her hand. She rushed out of the lift heading straight for the office of Senior Auror Potter. She wasn't looking where she was going, therefore she was surprised when she ran smack into someone.

"Sorry about that, ma'am," a voice, obviously male and vaguely familiar, said. "Here, let me help you."

Michelle accepted the proffered hand. "Thanks," it was only then that she looked up--and up some more--at the face of the man attached to the hand. "Auror Weasley, perhaps you could help me find Harry Potter? I haff somethink important to tell him."

"Uhh, sure. Follow me," the tall readheaded man said.

They reached an unmarked office. Auror Weasley knocked on the door. "'S open," came a voice from within. Michelle followed him in. "Michelle, right?" the man seated at the desk asked the minute he saw her. She nodded. "I usually don't get visits from my ex-wife's friends. Is there something wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern. She just handed him the note.

As he read the note his face fell. He finished it and handed it to Auror Weasley--Ron, if she remembered correctly. Harry Potter, tears leaking from his eyes said, "I assume this is real. She never was one for sick jokes. Ron, as soon as you've finished reading that get it down to handwriting analysis and see how long ago it was written. If if it was less than thirty-six hours we might have a chance. Ms. Harkonen, I need to know where you found her."

"Vell," she began as Ron hurried out of the room, shoulders slouched like a man who's been defeated. "I was checking in on her. She hadn't shown up for work in two days, and in that time she did not answer any communications, nor did she contact the office to explain her absence. You know as well as I do that that as abnormal behavior for her."

"You should have checked on her the first day!" Harry snapped. "She _never _forgets to check in if she has a problem."

"It's not _my_ fault. _You_ vere the _scheissekopf_ who left her, Potter! She vas happy before you left her for that...that _hunden_!" Michelle almost screamed at him. _At least _most_ of it came out in English_, Michelle thought, rather proud of herself that she hadn't delivered a long diatribe in her native German.

"How many times do I have to tell people that it just didn't work out?" Harry returned back tiredly, if a bit coldly.

"Vell that's all a moot point now, isn't it, _mutterficker_?" she returned hotly. She honestly didn't know why she was taking it out on him, all she knew was that it felt good to blame someone for her friend's suicide.

"I may not know much German, but that one was rather obvious. You're lucky I'm in a charitable mood; otherwise I'd report you for that remark." His voice was like an icy dagger on her spine.

--

They waited in uneasy silence for Ron to return. Finally, after almost half an hour, he returned, a dead look in his eyes. "They said it's been almost fifty seven hours. There's no way. I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment.

"Perhaps if I--" Harry began before being interrupted.

"I know what your thinking, mate. You know as well as I do that Project Tardis is only just past theory. They just started testing the device. And once it's done with the test phase, we both know that it's meant as a fail-safe should anyone play with history!" Ron exclaimed.

"But maybe we could get them to let us use this as test case," Harry insisted.

"What if it doesn't work and instead scatters you across the space-time continuation?" asked Ron. "I'll tell you what--Ginny'll kill me for sure!"

"Alright, alright. But I think you meant space-time _continuum_, not continuation," Harry corrected.

"Same difference," Ron replied glumly.

Harry started to correct him but changed his mind. Suddenly it hit him. Hermione was dead. His first wife was dead. The only woman he ever loved as more than a friend, was dead. _Wait, what? Did I just hear myself right?_ He searched his emotions and found that this was the truth...a very painful truth. Not just emotional pain, either. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on fire.

As he pulled away from his memories with just the thought of how much he had loved her remaining, he found himself on the floor, curled into the fetal position--staring up the skirt of a blonde witch. _Who is that?_ He shifted his head so he could see her face. _Oh, right. Hermione's friend, Michelle von Harkonen._ The thought of Hermione sent another jolt of pain through him, though this time it was strictly emotional.

"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?" the blonde witch asked. Harry nodded. "In that case, perhaps you could tell me what this Project Tardis is?" she asked in a polite voice, but the look on her face threatened violence if he didn't do as she asked.

"It's a DoM project based on some research Hermione was doing on her own towards the end of our marriage. It's a device that works like a Time Turner, but it works on a different principle--one without the limits of conventional Time Turners. That's all I know for sure," Harry said.

"But how do you know that it's done testing?" Michelle asked, puzzled.

"Hermione was helping them with it during her spare time, and she let slip a few hints here and there. Last time I spoke to her she intimated that they were just beginning to test the device. But Ron's right. They'll never let us borrow it. Heck, I doubt they'll be able to finish without Hermione's help," Harry sighed, then realized he'd forgotten something. "Shit. Ron, get a cleanup crew down there, and give the coroner a call. We need to make sure she wasn't under any sort of influence that would have made her do this sort of thing.

"Already taken care of," he said. "Well, actually I need to get going. I told them I'd meet them there."

"Dismissed," Harry said. "You need to go with him, too, Ms. Harkonen, they'll want to question you."

As his office door closed, Harry Potter, Head Auror, slumped in his chair and wept.

--

A/N: That's as far as I've gotten. I do plan on expanding this in to a longer chapter, to be posted as its own story. I just need a better title--Goodbye Cruel World is a horrible cliche that is for now only a stand in. My other ideas are:

**No one Ever Knew**

**Nothing Can Take Back Time**

**A Warning No One Read**

**Tragic Friendship**

**Beaneath the Surface, Stark Emptiness**

I plan on Ron finding her diaries. Currently I'm leaning towards "A Warning No One Read


	3. Radiant Eclipse 1

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling; I'm just a fat American man. I make no money off of the drivel that I write.

A/N: Yes, I posted this before, but I took it down because wasn't happy with it.

This was the first chapter of Radiant Eclipse. I took the fic down because I disliked the direction it was going, but I no longer have the motivation to rewrite it. One day I might, but today isn't that day. I'm posting this again, and may post more of what I had done on this story later.

I've tweaked it a little bit, but it's largely untouched.

So, without further ado, on with the show.

**Contractual Obligations**

**Chapter 1: First Meetings**

1 September 1991

If one were to look in on Kings Cross Station on this particular day, one would see numerous odd looking people moving in groups, all towards platforms 9 and 10, or rather a particular spot in the barrier between said platforms. Amongst these groups was one consisting entirely of redheads. In this group there was only one girl, and she was only here to see her brothers off. Her name was Ginevra--Ginevra Molly Weasley was her full name, Ginny for short.

Ginny Weasley was sad. Ron, her older brother, her one constant companion, her protector, was going off to Hogwarts. She knew that things would never be the same with him ever again. She watched as first Percy, then Fred, then George, disappeared through the barrier to Platform 9 3/4. Just as Ron was about to go, a lone boy, with messy black hair and emerald green eyes walked up nervously, asking how he was supposed to get onto Platform 9 3/4. As her mother explained how to get onto the platform, Ginny studied the boy. He looked vaguely familiar, like someone from a half forgotten dream. Just as he was about to cross the barrier, she shook herself from her thoughts and said to him, "Good luck."

As she came through the barrier with her mother, she saw Fred and George helping the strangely familiar boy heave his trunk onto the train. They came out a few minutes later looking rather excited. "Hey, Mum, you won't believe who we saw on the train!"

"Who was it, dear?" asked Mum.

"Harry Potter!" They excitedly chorused.

"Can I go see him mum?" Ginny asked excitedly.

"You saw him out there before he came through the barrier. He's not an exhibit in a zoo," Ginny tuned her out at this point, thinking again. So the meek boy she met briefly on the other side of the barrier was The-Boy-Who-Lived. Maybe that explained why he looked so familiar, but she was pretty sure that there was another reason. However, whatever that reason was she couldn't put her finger on it right now.

Later that night, as Ginny was getting into bed she looked at a picture that her mum had given her when she was five. It was dated 31 July 1981, just a month after she herself was born. Her mother had told her that it was the only picture they had of her betrothed. It was of a baby, with unruly black hair and green eyes...

Realization hit her like a rampaging hippogriff. She ran downstairs.

"Mum, who is the person in this picture?" she asked, handing her mother the photograph.

"I've told you before, Ginny, He's your betrothed. Now go back to bed," her mother said.

"But what is his _name_?" Ginny asked. She was pretty sure she had worked it out, but wanted confirmation.

"I guess you have a right to know by now," Her dad sighed. "Your mother and I met with his parents on the day that picture was taken, at Gringotts to set up the betrothal. That was the last time we saw any of them. Three months to the day after that meeting, his parents were killed and he was sent to live with his muggle relatives," he paused noticing the look on his daughter's face. "Yes, as you have apparently figured out on your own, you are betrothed to Harry Potter. Just don't let it go to your head, got it?" she nodded.

_I'm betrothed to Harry Potter! Luna's going to be sooo jealous!_ She rushed up to her room and fell into a happy sleep.

--

As it turned out, Luna Lovegood, Ginny's best friend, was not jealous. In fact, she didn't even seem surprised. Well, she didn't seem any more surprised than normal. She said something about plenumwarts and then said nothing more, as if the subject bored her to no end. She had changed a lot since the death of her mother last year. Ginny hoped that she would get better soon.

--

Mid-August 1992

Ginny was woken by the sound of her mother screaming. Though she couldn't hear what she was saying, she was definitely angry. She rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. After a half an hour she gave it up as a bad job and went downstairs. She came around the corner to go into the kitchen when she saw Him. She gasped, causing Him to look up. She ran all the way back to her room.

Apparently, only His legal guardians could tell Him about the contract--and they didn't even know about it.

She forced herself not to think of the contract. Instead she thought of all that her brother had told the family about Him. About how He was a natural at Quidditch. About how He was probably the most powerful student in to attend the school in a long time, according to Professor Flitwick. About how He had faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, all by Himself--though Ron always made sure to remind the family that he had played an important part in helping Him reach that point.

--

The next few weeks passed fairly quickly, though Harry was beginning to really worry about Ron's sister. Whenever he tried to talk to her, she would stand there for a few seconds, mouth working silently, then squeak and run off. Though Ron had assured him that she could speak just fine, Harry had yet to hear her say a coherent word.

It was the day before term started and Harry was heading downstairs to get a glass of water before sleep when he heard what he assumed was Ginny's voice coming from her room. She was pleading with her mum about something.

"--ust tell Him?" Ginny pleaded. Harry could _hear_ the capital 'h.'

"No! Absolutely not!" that was Mrs. Weasley's voice.

Ginny wasn't ready to give up yet. "But He'll find out eventually anyway!" There was that capital 'h' again.

"If you so much as utter one word to the poor boy, I'll make sure the contract gets dissolved!" Harry could sense the argument winding down, so he hurriedly went down the rest of the steps as quietly as possible.

While he was pouring himself the water, Mrs. Weasley came down the steps. "Hello Harry-dear. Have you got everything packed for tomorrow?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

He finished his water and went up to bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he puzzled over what the overheard conversation was about. There was definitely a 'He,' one important enough for a capital 'h.' There was also a contract of some sort, one important to Ginny.

His last thought before sleep took him was, _It probably doesn't have anything to do with me, so I shouldn't worry about it._ If only he knew how wrong he was.

When Harry awoke the next morning, he had forgotten all about it.

--

A/N: I know, I know. It sucked. It had some good points, but overall it was pretty bad. I do have some ideas for how to continue it in a good way, but they may never see the light of day. I will probably post chapter two later on, but, as with this one, it had already been posted. I just wasn't satisfied with what I had.


	4. The Trap Foiled

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Star Wars, or any of the ideas that made up the Monty Python television show and movies. Wish I did, but if wishes were horses, we'd all be knee-deep in horseshit.

WARNING: EXTREME STUPIDITY FOLLOWS! I thought it was funny when I wrote it, but then, I was getting slap-happy at the time.

**The Trap Foiled**

Harry entered the next room. It was the size of a cathedral and filled with row after row of shelves, each shelf lined with small spun-glass spheres.

"I think Sirius was this way," Harry said, motioning to his right. He'd barely taken a step in that direction when a tear seemed to open in reality, through wich fell several man-sized, sentient blancmanges and a tall vaguely person shaped...thing.

It was about seven feet tall, with slimy looking rust red skin. Its eyes--each easily three times the size of a snitch--were perched on the end of stubby eyestalks that sat very low on it's high-domed, octopus-like head. At the base of this oddly fish-like face was a slit that resembled the mouth of a catfish--it even had the 'whiskers.' It breathed with a wet, rasping, gasp.

The thing--which was dressed in a white spandex jumpsuit with gold epilauts on the shoulders--took stock of it's surroundings, then looked straight at Harry and shouted, "IT'S A TRAP!" while gesticulating madly with it's arms, which appeared to end in fin-like hands.

"Uhh...Oka-ay," Harry said uneasily. He could have sworn he heard the sound of man-sized pastries eating people coming from the direction he had been heading. when he looked beyond the fish-man...fish-woman? When he looked beyond the fish-person he could see the blancmanges that he'd seen earlier slinking back, looking decidedly...fuller.

The fish-monster looked back to see what Harry was looking at and said, "Trap averted," before the tear in reality reappeared and the fish-thing and the twelve man sized desserts disappeared.

"Did that really just happen?" Hermione asked from his right.

"What, the tear in reality resulting in the appearance of Admiral Ackbar and a dozen sentient blancmanges?" Luna asked in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

"Yes, that," replied Hermione.

"Of course it did. He always shows up when there's a trap," Luna said, condescension creeping into her voice around the extreme disinterest.

--

A/N: I don't know if it's been done before, but I'd be surprised if it hadn't. I included the epilauts because otherwise he just looks like 'disco squid.' Besides, in Expanded Universe, epilauts are part of the uniform.


	5. Radiant Eclipse 2

Disclaimer: For English, press one. Para espanol, empuje dos. For an apology for my horribly butchered Spanish, press three.

A/N: Most of the events that take place in the books take place here as well; the only major difference is the interpersonal exchanges. Don't let the beginning discourage you; this is where the contract comes into play. Much of the Gringotts stuff is inspired by Harry Potter and the Army of Ages, by Talon, an excellentthough apparently abandoned, fanfic that can be read on ficwad, and almost none of the ideas for the will are original.

If only I had one of Matthew Stover's Star Wars books handy. This chapter is perfect for a rip-off of one of those, if you know what I mean. If not, go read the novelization of Revenge of the Sith. It's not as good as Traitor, but Traitor requires too much preliminary reading before it makes any sense at all.

This was chapter two of Radiant Eclipse. Many of you will probably see why I didn't like it. It was up for almost six months before I took it down, but for those six months I had only occasional access to the Internet.

**Chapter 2: Where There's a Whip, I Mean Will, There's a Way**

Fifteen-year-old Harry James Potter was lost on a sea of despair. This past year was one of the worst of his young life, which was saying a lot as in the previous four years he had faced a basilisk, dementors and the man--no the _thing_--that killed his parents, the most evil wizard in several centuries, Tom Marvolo Riddle, a.k.a. Lord Voldemort. This past year he had been attacked by dementors and almost expelled, forced to write lines in his own blood, been banned from Quidditch, formed a secret D.A.D.A. study group--okay that had been a good thing--had said study group snitched on and nearly expelled, been banned from Quidditch, saw Mr. Weasley nearly killed, been banned from Quidditch, Occlumency lessons with Snape, been banned from Quiddtch, met Hagrid's full-giant half-brother, been banned from Quidditch, 'saw' His godfather, Sirius Black, being tortured by Voldemort in the Hall of Prophecy inside to Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic and, raced to save him accompanied by five of his friends, including his girlfriend. When he reached the place where he 'saw' Sirius, there was no one there. It was all an elaborate trap. Oh, and he'd been banned from Quidditch, too.

At this point in his remembrances he punched the wall as hard as he could, thankful that he found a stud, knowing that if the Dursleys found a hole in the drywall, he'd be lucky to get out to use the bathroom. _Where was I? Ah, yes it was a trap_...a trap that led to all five of his friends getting injured or otherwise incapacitated, and his godfather dying when he came to help. If it hadn't been for his girlfriend, he didn't know what he'd do.

His girlfriend. She'd been the most injured of the friends that had accompanied him. He almost broke up with her the minute she regained consciousness. She wouldn't let him. Hermione Granger was always like that; beneath that quiet exterior was a fierce warrior. He still couldn't believe the filth that spewed forth from her mouth that time in the Room of Requirement. He was still thankful that the Room was soundproof. If not, the banshee-like howls accompanying her peak would have alerted the entire school to what was happening.

At this point in his musings he was disturbed by an impatient screech. He looked up to see an official looking brown owl carrying large orange envelope emblazoned with the Gringotts seal. He untied the envelope and the owl flew off immediately, its manner implying that if it could talk it would be exclaiming "Finally!"

Harry opened the envelope. It contained a piece of parchment and a muggle playing card, an ace of spades with a hole in the center. He read the parchment.

_Dear Mr. Potter:_

_As one of the people named in the will of one Mr. Sirius Black, you are required to attend the will reading of Mr. Black's last will and testament tomorrow. The card accompanying the letter is a portkey that will bring you to Gringotts at 8:30 tomorrow morning. _

_After the will reading, there will be other matters that need to be discussed._

_Sincerely_

_Grimgnaw_

_Head of Estates and Wills_

Harry looked at the letter, tears blurring his vision. He figured this would happen sooner or later. While in one way it hurt because it validated his godfather's death, it also helped in that it allowed him to properly grieve.

An indeterminate amount of time later, as the sun was setting; he was disturbed by the arrival of his faithful familiar, Hedwig. She had a letter attached to her leg. He took the letter, noticing the tidy script that he recognized as his girlfriend's handwriting. He opened it, almost smiling for the first time in weeks. As he read it though the smile that had started to form retreated and by the end he was in full on panic mode.

_Dear Harry,_

_I don't know how to say this, so I'll just come out and say it. I'm pregnant. I didn't tell you this earlier because I just found out after the fiasco in the Department of Mysteries, and after that curse hit me there was a chance that I would lose it, what with the curse itself and then all the potions I had to take to recover from it. Madame Pomfrey came by this morning to check up on me, and said that there was no longer any chance of losing it, at least not from the potions and the curse. _

_I don't know what to do. How could I have been so stupid? I don't want an abortion, and I'm not sure how my parents will react. We need to talk soon._

_Love_

_Hermione_

Harry was stunned. He read the second paragraph several times, not once taking in the meaning. All he could think about was how he was certain that he had ruined Hermione's life. _She probably hates me now. It's not enough that I've got dark wizards ruining my life and the lives of my friends, now I had to go and ruin my girlfriend's life myself._

He pulled himself out of his pity party long enough to write this short note.

_Hermione_

_I'm so sorry; it's all my fault. I would understand if you never wanted to talk to me again, but we need to discuss where we go from here. I have to go to the reading of Sirius's will tomorrow. Perhaps we can meet up at The Leaky Cauldron for lunch. Again, I apologize for my stupid, selfish, mistake. It's not enough that you have Death Eaters ruining your life, I got to go and do something like this. Send your reply with Hedwig as soon as possible._

_Sincerely sorry for ruining your life,_

_Harry_

Harry tied the note to Hedwig's leg and said, "Sorry girl, but I need you to take this to Hermione, and wait for a reply."

Harry watched as his owl flew off into the distance. He looked at the time. It was almost time for his Aunt Petunia to call him for dinner.

Dinner was a rather uneventful affair, and after he cleaned up the dishes he went to his room and collapsed into bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

The next morning Harry got up early, prepared breakfast for the Dursleys, snagging an orange for himself and prepared for the will reading. Just before he a left, he received a note from Hermione telling him she would be at the reading as well, and that they would talk afterwards.

He had just grabbed the portkey when it activated, whisking him to Gringotts. He was met by a goblin wearing a disdainful expression. He assumed it had to do with not only his poor landing, but also his poorly fitting robes.

"Luckily Mr. Black made provisions for robes for you. Take these and put them on," the goblin said condescendingly. "I'll be waiting in the hall when you're ready."

Harry changed into the robes the goblin handed him. They fit perfectly. Well, they were a little loose in the torso, but that didn't bother him. He exited the room, whereupon the goblin led him to the room where the reading was to take place. Harry scanned those already assembled. The Weasleys were all there, as was Hermione. Harry saw Tonks, along with a woman, who, in poorer lighting could probably be mistaken for Bellatrix Lestrange. Also there were Narcissa and Draco Malfoy.

An important looking goblin cleared his throat. "Now that everyone has arrived, we can begin. You have all been gathered for the reading of the Last Will and Testament of one Sirius Orion Black." The goblin picked up a sheaf of parchment and began to read

_I, Sirius Orion Black, Marauder, Sex God (Shut up Moony), being of sound body and mind (I _said_ shut _up_ Moony!), do hereby declare that this is my last will and testament, all previous copies being null and void. _

_To Narcissa Malfoy, I do will and bequeath nothing, and recommend that the new Head of House cast you out of the family._

Narcissa looked down at her son and whispered, "Does he actually think you would cast your own mother from the family?"

_To Draco Malfoy, I do will and bequeath 10,000 Galleons--provided you swear an oath of fealty to the new Head of House. Otherwise, I recommend that the New Head of House cast you out with your mother._

Narcissa still did not appear to understand, as she now had a confused look on her face.

_To Bellatrix Lestrange, I do will and bequeath nothing, and recommend the new Head of House cast you out of the family._

_To Andromeda Tonks, I do will and bequeath 10,000 Galleons and recommend that the new Head of House reinstate you into the family._

_To Nymphadora Tonks, I do will and bequeath 10,000 Galleons and recommend that the new Head of House reinstate you into the family._

_To Molly and Arthur Weasley, I do will and bequeath 500,000 Galleons, for all you have done over the years, being the family that my godson never had before._

_To William Weasley, I do will and bequeath 10,000 Galleons. You've got an amazing girl; take good car of her._

_To Fred and George Weasley, I do will and bequeath 10,000 Galleons each and The Marauder Journals. Use them well._

_To Ginevra Weasley, I do will and bequeath 10,000 Galleons. You've been a true friend to my godson; I hope you stand by him always._

_To Ronald Weasley, I do will and bequeath 25,000 Galleons. You've been a brother to my godson from the day you two met. Remember that, and don't ever abandon him._

_To Remus Lupin, I do will and bequeath 3,000,000 Galleons. Now you have no excuse for wearing those rags you call a wardrobe._

_To Hermione Granger, I do will and bequeath 1,000,000 Galleons. You have loved and supported my godson ever since you became friends, and saved him more times than he's saved you. I also leave you all the books from the Black Library that Remus deems safe and/or appropriate for you. Use them well._

_To Harry Potter, my godson, I do will and bequeath everything else, including the title of Head of The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. All I ask is that you continue to allow the birdwatchers continue to use the Manor. I also officially emancipate you. I am so sorry that I could not be there for you as you grew up, but remember this; your parents would be proud of the man you have become, and I know I am. One last word of advice, learn to loosen up from time to time. Prongs would be embarrassed about how uptight you've become._

The goblin reading the will looked up, giving everyone in the room a piercing look. "That is the entirety of the will. There is extensive proof that the will was made of his own free will, therefore, no disputes will be allowed. Mrs. Malfoy if you will leave the room now, you are the only one that has no further business to discuss involving the will or its contents," he said before looking over to the Weasleys. "However, while the only one of you who is required to stay is the young Miss Weasley, you may all stay. Miss Granger, the same offer applies to you." While Fred and George left for their shop, everyone else stayed.

"Now, first things first. Mr. Potter, or should I say Lord Potter-Black, do you wish to expel Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Lestrange from the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?"

Harry replied, "That is my wish."

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy, do you wish to swear an oath of fealty to The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black and it's head? Keep in mind, as this oath would be one step shy of The Unbreakable Vow, this would supercede any prior oaths of fealty to any family, including Malfoy." Noticing the calculating look in the young wizard's eyes, he added, "This is a magically binding oath, not to be sworn lightly. This is not an oath that can be taken back or superceded. To break this oath in any way would cause you to lose your magic. Are you prepared to officially sever all ties to the House of Malfoy?"

Draco gulped; this was not normal procedure for swearing oneself to a family. But, then again, considering who he was, this was not terribly surprising. He went over all the information he had that was relevant to the decision he had to make. He knew that the Dark Lord was not up to facing both Potter and Dumbledore together. He knew that Potter was quite possibly the most powerful wizard since Merlin, if rumors were true. He knew that the Dark Lord had made himself immortal. He knew that if he chose to side with Potter, The Dark Lord's forces would hunt him down, and try to kill him. However, if he sided with The Dark Lord, any failure would be met with severe torture. Even success resulted in torture on rare occasions, if the Dark Lord was in a bad enough mood and the success was not as great as he had anticipated. If he sided with the Dark Lord, his father could get him off with a few well-placed bribes, but the enemies of the Dark Lord would never believe him innocent. If he sided with Potter and Dumbledore, he would be tortured for sport as a blood traitor, until he either joined them--in this case he would lose his magic if he did, so that wasn't an option--or the Dark Lord got tired of it and killed him. He would die a hero's death, if he were to die fighting the Death Eaters and the light side won. If he were to die fighting on the side of the Dark Lord, he would be remembered as a weakling, not strong enough to live, by his surviving comrades, and a villain by the light siders. Draco was coming to realize that there was no honor in fighting for the Dark Lord, no matter what his father said. Suddenly, it was like scales fell from his eyes. He knew there was only one choice. Just because he was Slytherin didn't mean he was indoctrinated to evil. His Slytherin instincts, though they were loathe to work to help the mudbloods, told him that the light side would better serve his ambition.

Harry watched as Draco weighed his options. When Draco next spoke, it surprised everyone in the room. "I, Draco Lucius Malfoy do hereby renounce the House of Malfoy and swear on my magic an oath of loyalty to the house of Black and humbly request to be admitted into the house that was once my mother's." As he made his request he got down on one knee, facing the floor.

A genetic memory triggered in Harry's subconscious and he drew his wand and tapped Draco on the head. "I, Harry James Potter-Black, formally induct you into the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. I accept your oath, and swear on my magic to protect you as required of a head of house. You may rise, Draco Lucius Black." There was a bright flash of light, a sort of greenish-purple only given off by certain rare magical discharges.

Taking a break from the formality, Harry asked, "Tell me, Draco, what is the situation in Slytherin. Are the inhabitants really as dark as everyone says they are, or is that just a false stereotype?"

Draco thought for a moment before answering. "While there are a few die-hard supporters of the Dark Lo- er, You-Know-Who, such as Crabbe and Goyle, most are neutral, though with leanings one way or another. I know Nott favors the Dar- er, He-Wh-"

"Voldemort. Say it with me. VOL-duh-MORT." Harry said, ignoring the reactions. He wasn't expecting actual results, but he tried anyway.

"Okay, we'll try it your way. Nott favors Voldemort-" he paused when he noticed how other people reacted to him saying it. He had always been too busy reacting himself to notice other's reactions. "I now understand why you like saying Voldemort so much, Potter. It's funny watching everyone's reactions. As I was saying, Nott favors Voldemort, and Zabini favors the light. Of the girls in our year, only Pansy actually supports Voldemort. Bulstrode refuses to take a side, as far as I know, while Davis has light side leanings, and Greengrass has actually come out in support of Dumbledore and the light. Come to think of it, I think Bulstrode might be a closet light-sider, since I've heard reports of her standing up for Greengrass and Davis before." Draco shuddered, "There's a scary thought, going up against those three. It's a little known fact that Greengrass is probably the fourth most powerful student in school after you, Granger and myself."

"If that's the case, she'd be fifth. Neville is just about as powerful as I am, believe it or not. His problem was a wand that wasn't a very good match. Tell me, I've heard stories that Crabbe and Goyle would be formidable in a duel if they weren't such dumbasses. Is this true, or just someone blowing smoke out of their ass?" Harry

"It's the truth believe it or not. Goyle is functionally illiterate, but the spells that he does know are very effective, when he remembers he can do magic. Crabbe is much the same way, except he can read...a little. He was learning last year, some program called 'Hooked on Phonics.'" Draco shook his head disdainfully. "Fath-Lucius told me to hang around with them and they would scare the mu-," Every wizard and witch in the room shot him a warning glare, causing him to hesitate for a split second, "-uggleborns away."

"We're getting sidetracked." He turned back to the goblin. "Continue, please."

"Next we have the matter of Mrs. Andromeda Tonks-" the goblin began before he was interrupted.

"Reinstate her, and her daughter as well." Harry said.

"Very well, give me a second...done. They have the option of taking oaths of loyalty as well, but that is between you and them, and not important to matters at the moment," the goblin said as he made some notations on a piece of parchment.

"Now, as for the matter of the betrothal contract-"

"_What!?_" Harry and Hermione said as one.

Everyone in the room except Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny was surprised, but that was nothing compared to the reaction to the next words out of the goblin's mouth.

"Yes, as I was saying, there's just the matter of the betrothal between Lord Potter-Black and one Miss Ginevra Weasley-"

"_What!?_" Harry exclaimed once again, tearing his eyes away from the goblin and looking at Ginny. He now noticed that she didn't appear surprised, or even pleased with herself. If anything, she looked hurt. Harry had a hunch that it was because of his reaction to the fact that he was betrothed to her.

"How come no one told me about this? If I had known that I was going to be forced to marry Ginny, I would have gotten to know her a little better, as it is I think of her as a sister. Do you realize how...how disturbing it is to be told you are betrothed to your _sister_?" He closed his eyes, sinking back into the seat he had vacated when he had accepted Draco's oath.

"Can this week get any worse?" he muttered under his breath. "First I find out I knocked up my girlfriend-"

"What! You got Granger pregnant?" Draco, who Harry had forgotten about, had apparently been close enough to hear.

_I just had to ask, didn't I? If she didn't hate me before, she definitely hates me now._

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. He looked up to see Hermione, tears in her eyes, trying to give him a comforting smile, which he missed. "They were going to find out eventually, Harry. I just wish Malfoy hadn't blurted it out."

"Oi! That's Black, now." Draco said with a false air of haughty indignation, before turning more serious. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted that out."

Harry's right eye started twitching, and his right hand clenched and unclenched of it's own accord.

The goblin cleared his throat again. "Please, just let me finish and you can work out whatever issues you need after I'm done." He looked around the room making sure everyone understood. Seeing that this was the case, he continued, "Mr. Potter, as I was saying before you interrupted me, twice, your parents set up a betrothal contract between yourself and Miss Weasley here on your first birthday. The terms stated that once you came of age, which has happened prematurely due to your emancipation, you would be able to execute said contract at any time you wanted to. Now, since you--what did you call it--ah, yes, since you 'knocked up' Miss Granger, you might be interested in knowing that as the head of two Ancient and Most Noble Houses, you have the option of taking a second wife, but not until the first marriage has been consummated. As the betrothal contract is an irrevocable first step to marriage, that would make Miss Weasley the first marriage. If you have any questions, I'm sure those assembled here would be glad to help. If you have any questions that these people can't answer, I'll be happy to answer them, just tell one of the tellers that you wish to speak to Grimgnaw and I'll make time to speak to you.

With that the Goblin left the room.

Harry began to recover from his shock, deciding to 'grin and bear it.' "I'm hungry. How about I treat all of you to lunch."

Everyone agreed, and followed Harry to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch.

--

A/N: I do wonder how many people got the references I included. Tell me if you did, because it would make me feel better if my references weren't going over people's heads.

For those that didn't see any problems...no. Just, no. It was a trainwreck. A well written trainwreck, but a trainwreck none-the-less. I think I linked the plot points together in a clever manner, with some interesting and occasionally funny dialogue...but the plot points themselves sucked. You can polish a turd all you want, but in the end all you're left with is a very shiny turd.

Questions? Comments? Plotholes? Just type them up in a review (please) and I'll respond to those that I deem worthy of responses.


	6. The Brass Ball

Disclaimer: He who laughs last doesn't get the joke.

A/N: Another short scene, inspired by a comment in one of the author's notes of the fic "Notebooks and Letters" by chem prof. He described the movie version of the yule ball as having a "heavy metal band and mosh pit." I have no idea who told them that those were in the movie, but there was no metal to that song (although it _did_ sound a littl like something written by Ronnie James Dio and sung by Billy Idol) and certainly no moshing. That is, unfortunately, how white people dance. Moshing would have been more violent--much, _much_ more violent.

So, I give you a scene that may or may not make it into An American Wizard at Hogwarts. As it was originally written for AWiH, it contains characters you may not recognize if you haven't read it up to at least chapter 12. It also contains the decidedly non-canon pairing of Harry and Hermione. I may modify it heavily even if it does, but I don't think I'm giving any _major_ spoilers away in it.

**The Brass Ball**

The Creevey Brothers had performed admirably at their task. As Harry and the rest of his friends were waiting for their dates to meet them in the common room, Colin came up to them and said, "Mission accomplished," and walked off to join his younger brother in a corner of the common room.

Later, after dinner the champions were told to move to the dance floor. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked Hermione. "This is your last chance to back out..."

"Yes, I'm sure I want to do this," she answered tiredly. "Furthermore, my last chance to back out was over three hours ago."

"Fred and George gave me a couple Ton Tongue Toffees. We could each pop one and have an excuse for missing the first dance..."

"You really though this out didn't you?" Hermione laughed. "Your idea has merit, I'll give it that, but if we did that, then I wouldn't be able to dance with my boyfriend."

Then the band began playing and all thoughts of escape faded from Harry's mind, replaced by the silent mantra _Don't step on her feet. Don't step on her feet. Dont step on her feet..._

After the waltz that opened the dancing, someone in the crowd shouted "FREEBIIIIRRRRD!" Harry was pretty sure it was Matt.

Some of the muggleborn witches and wizards chuckled and looked around to see who said it, but before the culprit could be identified, a mournful bagpipe note carried out over the crowd. To the amazement of those who knew what Freebird was, The Weird Sisters were now playing the song. Harry had to admit, however, that it did sound a bit odd played on bagpipes, an upright bass, a lute, a twelve sting acoustic guitar, a french horn, a gigantic saxophone, a baby grand piano, and various orchestral percussion instruments.

The beginning of the song was perfect for slow dancing, regardless of instrumentation. The end...even Harry had to admit it wasn't the best idea he, Matt, and Hermione had ever had.

As Harry and Hermione sat down for a break several songs later, Lucy could be heard shouting, "Play some Stairway!"

Harry turned to his date and asked, "You wanna go back out and dance this one as well?"

"God no! That would be way too 'senior prom!'" Hermione exclaimed.

"I know what you mean," Matt said as he and Lucy came up to them and sat down, almost having to shout over the sound of "Stairway to Heaven" being played by the motley assortment of instruments. Lucy looked a little disappointed, and Matt almost immediately got up, saying, "On second thought..."

"That boy is whipped," Harry commented as Matt and Lucy walked out to the dance floor.

"And what's wrong with that, Mr. Potter?" Hermione huffed.

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" Harry stammered before he noticed the barest hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"Besides, I don't think they've gone that far with their relationship yet," Hermione added.

"What?" Harry asked absently. Just as she was about to open her mouth to explain he got it. "Ohhhh. Never mind."

"So...should we go through with the last one?" Hermione asked.

"I dunno. Could be a train wreck," answered Harry.

So that's a 'yes,' is it?"

"You bet."

Two hours later, the night was winding down when Harry triggered the last of the compulsions. Hermione and he were dancing near the center of the dance floor as the band ended their penultimate song.

"We got one more for ya," the singer called to the crowd.

Hermione latched onto Harry, giving him a smoldering kiss. "Shwing!" Harry shouted as they separated, turning to the side and giving a theatrical pelvic thrust, causing the band to begin performing a song that only vaguely resembled "Caught in a Mosh."

The following cacophony spawned the most violent--_Well, only_--moshpit in Hogwarts history.though mainly consisting of those that Harry and his circle of friends had given advance warning to, there were also a few Slytherins, including Draco Malfoy, trapped in the center--apparently herded there by Cedric Diggory and his friends.

The next morning the participants in the moshpit limped down to breakfast, many proudly sporting black eyes or other bruises, some just hungover, having gotten hold of contraband firewhiskey.

--

A/N: So ends my feeble attempt at satire.

Questions? Comments? Plotholes (Yeah, right.)? Just type them up in a review and I'll answere the interesting ones.


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